


Tending to a Fairy

by kayisdreaming



Series: Odin Sphere Ficlets [8]
Category: Odin Sphere
Genre: F/M, just cute fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 11:39:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayisdreaming/pseuds/kayisdreaming
Summary: Ingway tries to find his fairy. Mercedes tries to avoid being found. Fluffy things ensue and we all pretend that Odin Sphere has happy endings for everyone.





	Tending to a Fairy

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been fighting fever/flu the last few days and this popped out. If you like it, totally to my credit. If you don't like it, I blame the flu.

Ingway wasn’t concerned. He was never concerned. Concerned was for people who didn’t have faith in their path and their actions. Concerned was for people who didn’t somehow manage to find a way to a happy ending, despite numerous missteps and miscalculations (not that Ingway had any of those). Concerned was for a man who didn’t happen to have a fairy queen he could call his own.

No, he was just . . . mildly inconvenienced. After all, wasn’t it such a grand inconvenience that aforementioned fairy queen happened to be missing this very morning, when she was supposed to be making the typical important decisions a queen must make? Like, what color the flowers should be. Or when she should exchange one type of flower crown for another. Frivolous things that he was sure, in some corner of his mind, must be the only business they had now.

He had expected her to be somewhere in the gardens, but she wasn’t there. Or somewhere just outside the castle, certainly _not_ targeting frogs. But she wasn’t there. He even checked the kitchens, knowing her fancy for fruits was sometimes a bit beyond normal. But she wasn’t there, either.

It was already late in the day, and it was almost impossible that she would still be in bed. To be fair, he hadn’t joined her for the last couple weeks, too busy checking on his sister and her still-unfortunate choice of a companion. He had planned on surprising her during this meeting among the council. He had hoped very much to enjoy the absolute misery on her face as he stood just out of her reach, making her complete her duty. The way she squirmed was positively delightful, though he knew he would always pay for it much later.

With a sigh, Ingway took the stairs to her room. It was unlikely, but he was low on options. If she wasn’t there, he would have to alert the guard. Surely, his fairy queen could take care of herself, but he didn’t want to risk it.

When he entered the room, he was greeted with a rather absurd sight. Pillows were stacked high on the mattress, stacking almost taller than he stood (were there even this many pillows in the castle?). He shut the door gently behind him, stepping carefully toward the mess. Upon a glance, the rest of the room seemed empty, so it had to be here. Probably.

A tiny sneeze—no grander than a kitten’s—confirmed his suspicions.

“I have never seen such a mess.” He muttered, shifting to pull one of the pillows.

A small hand grabbed the pillow from his and very ungracefully pulled it back to its place on the pile.

“And what have we here?” He mused, smiling.

With a small hum, he shifted to take one of the lower pillows. A few of its partners tumbled down, too, but it didn’t seem enough to reveal the fairy within.

“An entire castle to call her own, yet my queen stays only to her fort of pillows.”

“Go croak elsewhere.” A small voice rasped at him. “This one is mine.”

Ingway blinked. Without mistake, it was most certainly Mercedes. But he had only heard her voice so rough and weak on a handful of occasions. Once was when she was nearly falling to helplessness when forced to be the leader. Another, when she thought no one was around to hear her lament her mother’s loss. Now . . . now he didn’t know the reason, but if history was ay indication, it was a point of concern.

“Mercedes . . .” Ingway pulled at another pillow, only for her to grab it back. It was a childish game, but he could do childish quite well. And he knew he was quicker than she was. He could keep up, as each pillow was removed and replaced again and again.

In one swift move, he managed to grab her wrist as she attempted to undo his efforts. Slowly, and with some effort, he unearthed his fairy from her pillow tomb, starting from those around the arm. If he tossed them to the floor, she couldn’t grab them.

As he revealed her, he was greeted with puffy eyes, flushed cheeks, and a pout. Her gaze seemed somewhat glazed over, dark circles under her eyes. Beneath his fingers, he could now register the accelerated pulse, and a bit of an uncanny temperature.

“Leave me be.” She growled, though it lost all potency with how quiet it was. It was almost as if her voice had been run over the rough sands of the desert, removed of all energy and sweetness, before it reached his ears.

Ingway opened his mouth, but was slow to find words. He had to close and open it again before his senses were returned to him. “Queen, are you ill?”

Mercedes scowled harshly, and shook her head. That seemed to make her easily dizzy, and she pulled her hand away to rest into the pillow. She pressed her face hard into another one nearby. From within, he could hear just the slightest whimper.

“You are truly the most stubborn woman.” Ingway sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. As gentle as possible, he placed his hand upon her shoulder and turned her onto her back. It was a bit of a strange position, the pillows pulling her into a half-sit, but it was enough for his purposes. He placed the back of his hand to her forehead. The result made him scowl.

“’Tis not the way to handle a fever.” He chastised. “No doubt you’ve made it worse.”

“I’m fine.” Mercedes weakly protested.

“You are a fool, nothing more.” Ingway rubbed his face. He hadn’t planned on this, but certainly he would not argue his duty. This was a part of having someone to care for, wasn’t it? “Do not move. And do not go back beneath the pillows.”

 

 

In a short time, Ingway had an armful of useful supplies. He had cool water from the nearby streams in a few jugs, soup from the kitchen in another, a few bowls, some rags, and a few tonics to help with any pain or lasting symptoms.

“Be still.” He said, voice soft. With care, he dampened some of the rags and placed them on her forehead and the back of her neck. He removed the remainder of the pillows, replacing them with a single blanket. He then occupied the nearby table with some soup in a bowl, mixed with some tonic, and a water glass beside it.

With care, he placed the bowl in her hands. “’Tis hot, so you should use care”

Mercedes’ wings fluttered a bit against the mattress, the scowl clear on her face.

Ingway smiled. “What is it?”

“I’m trying to think of a way to say you’re so annoying.”

“That is merely a sign of how unwell you are.” He said. With a hum, he kissed her forehead. “I will tend to you till your words and sense return.”

Glancing up at him through her lashes, he could see the fever flush darken slightly with a more natural one. “I suppose I’ll . . . tolerate it.”

He chuckled. He _supposed_ he could work with that.


End file.
